Mirabel Pictures Novels & Stories

THIRD PERSON'S POV:- Mira opened her eyes and found herself standing in front of the full view mirror. She was looking at herself. She looked very young. She looked almost sixteen or maybe seventeen. She was wearing a long mermaid style, off shoulder white dress. It was backless and the upper layer of the dress was shimmery. She had a crown on her head. A princess crown that had the long lace veil attached with it. She remembered that crown on her head. It was the crown Fredrick had gifted her on her twelfth birthday. He wanted to make her feel like a princess the day they would get married.

she added. Mirabel shook her head. "There is a demon I once made an encounter with in another world, or should I say dimension." She said and opened the drawer in the table she was sitting on. She brought out an old scroll and stood up from the table and then proceeded to roll out the scroll on top of the table for all to see. "I drew her the moment I laid my eyes on her. I'm very good at drawing and painting. Her name is Rozra." Samira's eyes almost bulged out of her eyes, the picture Mirabel had shown to them was that of Rozralas.

"Emm... I'm Mirabel I said stammering. "Mira, nice name...are u a fresher? He asked looking me over from head to toe. "Of course, I'm even going to the auditorium for my last clearance. "Ohh, thought as much with the files on your hands, I'm walking towards that side. "Alright" I said clutching the files was holding on my chest as I caught him staring at my breasts. "Hope you don't mind me showing you around later, anytime you are chanced?

Mirabel watched them from behind the treeline , a wicked smirk on her lips. “They’ll never find out ,” she whispered. She turned to leave but stopped. A chill crept down her spine. “Who’s there?” she called into the trees.. Her pulse quickened. “If this is a joke, knock it off.” Nothing. Mirabel spun around , with her voice trembling. “Show yourself!” But yet still nothing.. She turned to walk away , her steps uneven, and hurried. Behind her , something shifted in the shadows. ... Sharon handed the note back to Jake.

Caleb added. Mirabel, sitting beside me with her cheeks full of plantains, turned suddenly. “Wait! I forgot something!” she squealed. “I made new drawings for Daddy! I’ll be right back!” Before I could remind her not to run, she’d already jumped off her seat and dashed off toward the hallway. “Mirabel—slow down!” I called after her. Clinton chuckled and took a sip from his drink. “She gets that energy from you.” “From me?” I snorted. “She’s your daughter, remember?”

For the first time in a long time, Mira felt intrigued. Mirabel Erickson, an 18-year-old 300-level mechanical engineering student, was strikingly beautiful. Her smooth brown skin, which she fondly referred to as her "chocolate color," only added to her confident charm. Born and raised in Lagos but of Edo heritage, Mirabel carried herself with a natural grace that often turned heads.

Mirabel entered her car, an evil smile playing on her lips as she texted Hardulph, she was certain that her plans with Liliana were going to work. She took out a small knife that she had hidden under her cloth and her smirk became wider. She took it up so that the blade shone brightly and her reflection was clear on it. Mirabel began to chuckle like a psychopath as she stared at her reflection on the knife blade, "Sorry but I'm not sorry Hardulph" She smirked and placed the knife back in its place. She drove out at high speed so that she would get to the location before Hardulph.

King Gladwin would never bless the relationship. Mira wiped her tears as she found a mirror nearby and walked in. She arrived somewhere else, somewhere near the sea depot. A moment later, Mirabelle walked past her. She had a newspaper before she put it away and took out a scarf and dark glasses from her bag just as a bus approached. The bus stopped, blocking Mira’s view. Quickly crossing the busy road, she caught up with the bus and boarded it. Mirabelle sat far behind and Mira did the same.

Aleksandra POV I arrived at my ballet class, my feet moving on autopilot, yet my mind was elsewhere. The complex was a three‑story building with a gym and various rooms for fitness programs. As I entered the building, I noticed a familiar figure at reception. Mirabel was standing there in a sports bra far too small her breasts seemed ready to spill out, and leggings, holding a gym bag. I’d never seen her in the fitness centre before, and her heavy makeup didn’t suggest she was really into exercise.

No need for elaboration. I turned from the window and crossed to my desk. The surface was unusually tidy—files stacked, laptop closed, Elena’s photo in its small silver frame catching the light. I picked it up for a moment, my thumb brushing the edge. Mirabel’s smile stared back at me from the background of the picture, they looked so much alike that someone could mistake Elena’s pictures for Mirabel. I set it down carefully, like it might break if I held it too long. My phone vibrated on the leather blotter.